


Spirits

by Buttons15



Series: Random Overwatch AUs [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Shadowrun
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: Angela hasn't run the shadows in a long time, promising herself to lead a peaceful life out of trouble. All that is about to change when she gets contacted by the daughter of an old partner. Set in the cyberpunk-meets-magic universe that is Shadowrun lore, can be read without prior Shadowrun knowledge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been into Shadowrun lately, and if you have never heard of it, then you absolutely should, because it's always five bucks at steam sale and those were the best spent five bucks in my life. Anyhow, if you know the Shadowrun universe, you can skip this bit, but if you don't, I'll leave a little glossary and you can come here if you get stuck on a term.
> 
> Shadowrunner - A mercenary that goes into dangerous missions. Basically an elite criminal.  
> A run - A mission.  
> The Matrix - It's... the matrix. Come on, I shouldn't have to explain this one. The digital world.  
> Datajack - A bit of equipment that gets attached to the brain and creates an interface between brain and the matrix.  
> Globinize - When a human turns into a Troll or Orc because hardcore puberty or other mysterious reasons.  
> Metahumans - Elves, dwarves, orcs and trolls.  
> Commlink - like a phone  
> Shadowland BBS - Like the shadowrunner reddit  
> Essence - A magical power thing that is inversely proportional to how much metal you stick in your body. The more cyber enhanced, the less magical. There's a minimum of essence below which getting more technological bits drives you nuts or kills you.  
> Decker - A hacker.  
> Cram - Basically meth  
> A milk run - A job that is really easy

Angela shifted on her feet, uneasy, face hidden by her hood, eyes darting back and forth the dark alley. As far as bad decisions went, she had to congratulate herself on this one: agreeing to meet an unknown runner on a dangerous location to go on a mission she had not even been debriefed on was reckless even for someone with her lifestyle.

And after that last job, she had promised herself she was done with running for good.

 _I should have met her in the Matrix, at least,_ she chided herself, but of course she couldn’t do that because at that point in the century, she was probably the only person who still hadn’t implanted a goddamn Datajack. Feeling cold, she rubbed her arms with her palms.

 _It should be okay though, right?_  She absently ran her fingers over her belt, where she stored her summoning charms. Angela could take care of herself. Still, she closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to her mentor spirit, Bear. He had seemed oddly comfortable with the idea of meeting the stranger, and that had played a big role on her acceptance.

There was a noise coming from her side and she turned with a jump, startled and tense, to see a shadow move her way. Her spells were charged up and ready when the newcomer came into light and, out of sheer surprise, Angela dropped her hands.

“Relax, chummer,” the woman closed the distance between them. “It’s just me. No company, as agreed.”

A quick look was enough for her trained eye to pick out the important details. The woman was tall, with wide shoulders and a mean gun strapped to her back. All of her left arm had given place to a high-quality cyber implant, and so had everything below her right knee.

And the face – there was no doubt about the legitimacy of the information Angela had been given, at least. They had told her the truth, but also omitted a _very_ important detail.

“You’re…human,” the blonde blinked, unable to stop herself.

“And you’re an elf,” the other replied in a _‘duh’_ tone, then extended her hand. “Pharah, pleased to make your acquaintance.” She hesitated. “…you _are_ my contact, right? Mercy, is it?” the woman gave her a blatant once over. “You look like a ‘Mercy’.”

“Yes, I’m –” she pinched the bridge of her nose, recollecting her thoughts, and shook the woman’s hand. “I used to run with your mother, Ana.” She let the sentence ring in the air for a moment, hoping Pharah would offer an explanation. When she didn’t, the blonde prompted, “…your mom was an Orc.”

“Truly? I never noticed,” the human teased, rolling her eyes. “Y’know, I always figured I’d globinize in my teen years, but then they passed and I didn’t, so yep,” she popped the ‘p’. “Human it is. A pity – I could see myself with fancy tusks.”

It wasn’t impossible or even unusual that Metahumans would give birth to humans and vice-versa, particularly if the parents belonged to different races. Still, when she was contacted by someone who identified herself as ‘the little Amari’, she hadn’t expected to meet someone so –

 _Cute_ , her brain offered helpfully. _You think she’s cute._

Angela had been born from human parents into a society that was very hostile to metahumans, and though she wasn’t one of the _norms_ herself, she had never fully been able to detach herself from the dominant beauty standards. Elves and humans were alike in many things, aesthetic preferences included .Born trolls and orks had an innate sense of appreciation for horns and large teeth, but she, not so much.

And though she’d always thought Ana beautiful _for an ork,_ Pharah did not fall under the lens of her prejudice – she was drop-dead gorgeous, no strings attached.

“…your commlink.” The woman finished whatever she’d been saying. “Are you even listening?”

“Pardon me,” Angela replied with practiced ease. “I tend to get dispersed often.” She tapped an index finger to her temple. “The spirits.”

“…Right,” the Amari shrugged, accepting her excuse. “I was just saying I only got a direct contact to your commlink because I found it in mom’s old stuff. You’re not in the Shadowland BBS.”

She touched a hand to the back of her nape. “I don’t do…the matrix stuff.”

“Truly?” Pharah arched an eyebrow at her, and the two began walking. Out of the alley and into a larger street, buildings covered by neon lights glowed, illuminating their paths and giving their skins different shades of color.

“I like to keep my essence clean,” she explained as the other led the way.

“Even though the datajack is so…minimal?” the woman gestured with her thumb to a fence which led to a large parking courtyard.

“Even so,” Angela said, ducking under a hole in a fence. Pharah followed behind. “I’m hoping this won’t be a problem, though? I’m a shaman. I figured you’d hire an actual decker –”

“Hoi, chummers!” Someone zipped their way to them. “Took your bloody sweet time, did you.”

Pharah turned to the blonde, looking smug, and shrugged theatrically, showing her palms.

“ – oh.”

There was no question about the newcomer’s profession – everything about her screamed _decker_ , from the white hair to the goggles to the complex and intricate bit of cyberware attached to her chest. Angela had never seen anything like that particular equipment before, but she was more than used to getting surprised by the wonders of technology.

The woman hopped around them, the glow of her techno implants leaving a trail of light as she moved.

“You’re not on cram again, are you?” Pharah mumbled, using her chrome arm to grab the unusually short little elf by the jacket and lift her in the air with ease. “Tracer, I swear to god –”

Cursing profusely, the decker kicked the air in protest. “I am not – put me down, _norm!_ ”

Eyes twinkling, the human let go of the other, who fell to the ground with an ‘oompf’. “There you go, dandelion eater,” she grinned, then abruptly turned to Angela, cheeks flushed. “Uhh, no offense.”

The blonde shook her head at the racial slur. “It’s all right. You two have been running together for a long time?”

Pharah slapped Tracer on the back of the head, ignoring the other’s protests. “Been working with this imp for almost half a decade now.”

Tracer stuck her tongue out in response. The bickering and intimacy between the two was somehow soothing to Angela; though she was new to the party, it was always good to know the team she was working with had experience together.

“ – Tracer, introduce yourself to the doctor, damn it. Quit being such an animal.”

The decker combed her pink hair with her fingers, grinning. “We know each other already, asshole.”

The human tilted her head. “You do?”

“We do?” Angela quizzed.

“S’pose you wouldn’t remember, what with how many patients you got and all. You patched me up after a rough run in Gibraltar.” Tracer winked. “Might remember me by name – Lena Oxton.”

“Oh!”  It rang a bell, and Angela lifted her index finger in the air and held it there for a moment, closing her eyes to better evoke the memory. “Wrist fracture, wasn’t it? I remember you recovered fully.” When the other nodded, Angela added: “You were a lot less… _cyber_ back then.”  

The woman tapped the bit of tech attached to her chest. “Long, crazy story… might share it with you after the job is done.”

“Right, about that,” Pharah cut in, crossing her arms. “Tracer, how are the preparations coming along?”

“Zarya will signal us any second now.”

“I’d like to know what the mission is actually about,” Angela interrupted. “I don’t like being kept in the dark. I wouldn’t have come were it not for your family name.”

Pharah rubbed her nape with her hand. “Sorry about that, I… had to be cautious, even if you were in mum’s squad. One of her hot contacts turned out to be a ghoul, and I couldn’t risk that mess again. Hope you understand.”

The blonde nodded in acquiesce, then motioned for the other to keep talking.

“So,” the human began. “It’s simple, really. Our Mr. Johnson used to be a gang hotshot, but then he left that life to do something else that doesn’t concern us. At some point, his brother died, and he still goes pay his respects every year. But now the mob boss is having the remains moved, and he wants to know where to. A milk run, really.”

 _Your mom used to say there’s no such thing as a milk run,_ Angela thought but didn’t say, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips. “And what’s the plan?”

“Zarya went into the building, to get us some janitor uniforms – Tracer, did you inform her to get Mercy is a standard size?”

“Yes.”

“Wiz. So, she’ll signal us when she’s ready. We get in, Tracer jabs the info from their system, we get out.” She clicked her fingers. “Quick and effective. Should be a slot and run, and I’ll probably be paying you for nothing. Still, the reason I got you to come at all is that I figured since we’re dealing with dead people, a shaman might come in handy.” Pharah shrugged. “You never know the kind of plot twists a run might give you.”

“Wise, that,” Angela smirked. “Your mother would have approved.”

“Would she, really?” Pharah snapped, her tone abruptly bitter. She looked as if she had more to say, but Tracer’s commlink suddenly beeped and a Russian accented voice called over.

“I’m at the backdoor,” the radio chirped. “Be quick about it.”

The three moved swiftly, Tracer leading the way to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. There, they met a pink-haired Ork who handed each a pair of ugly blue overalls. Angela threw them over her clothes hastily, tucking her discreet shaman ornaments under the fabric.

Zarya didn’t seem like much of a talker, and any conversation the others could have died down as soon as the four stepped into the gang headquarters. They spread out in smaller groups to avoid suspicion, but for someone who had broken into both Vishkar and Lumérico, the fairly average security was no challenge.

Angela found herself in the main office in no time, having charmed her way through a large Troll guard whilst misdirecting other two with security-talk babbling. It took her a couple minutes to be joined by the others, and she sat on a comfortable office chair when Tracer jacked into the servers and began digging for their information.

Zarya took it upon herself to guard the door, and while they waited for the short elf to do her job, Angela let her gaze wonder around the room. It was comfortable, complete with air conditioning, a small fridge and big screens, but what really got her attention was how properly arranged was the feng-shui. Whoever decorated the place knew how to keep the chi flowing and fresh.

And then something caught her eye – on the wall opposite to her, a large logo of intertwining twin dragons, one blue, one green. It made something on the back of her mind stir, and in the astral plane, she felt Bear turn their attention to her, as if to emphasize that the symbol was of importance.

“Um…” she began.

“Woah woah woah, you guys should hear this out,” Tracer interrupted.  She had her goggles on, covering her eyes, and every now and then Angela could see flashes of the projections that ran through them.

“Spill,” Pharah prompted.

“So our client, Mr.Hanzo, isn’t that right?” The decker clicked her tongue. “Turns out he wasn’t just a member – he was the mob boss’ elder son. And guess who killed the brother?”

A clinging sense of dread seemed to squeeze at Angela’s chest as the other spoke, the certainty that she was missing something, and she closed her eyes and gave chase to it, trying to put puzzle the pieces together.

“The dad?” the human deduced.

“No, Hanzo himself,” Tracer revealed. “Apparently the brother was rather reckless with the family business and they had one big argument which ended in a huge fight. Now, hear this out – see the logo? The mean dragons? Totally real. The Super Shimada Brothers can actually –”

 _“_ Fuck, _”_ Angela cursed, going pale. “We gotta run. _Now_.”

“What?” Pharah protested. “We still don’t have the data!”

“That’s weird” Tracer hushed. “I’m just getting to the good part and it looks like –”

“His name is Genji,” the blonde interrupted. “Genji shimada. You’re about to find out he’s actually alive.” She paused, caught her breath. “I would know – I was the one who put him back together. Rough surgery. Had to swap almost everything for chrome. Thought he would perish from the sheer lack of essence, but he has surprisingly…endured.”

“You’re shitting me,” the human gaped. “You’ve got to be –”

“Alarm!” Tracer called a split second before the loud ringing assaulted their ears. It took the decker another three seconds to safely disconnect from the system, and when she did, Zarya had already ran into the room and picked her up.

 They skidded through the corridors, trading shots with guards dressed in black suits that swarmed from every direction. Yanking charms from her pocket, the blonde summoned her wind and fire elementals. Through the chaos, she held her control over the spirits only enough to guide them into the middle of the mayhem. Once they were surrounded, she released her control over the creatures, letting them run berserk in the middle of their foes.

Even so, they were outnumbered more than five to one, and despite Pharah’s deadeye accuracy with what was less a gun and more a rocket launcher, they knew they would get in serious trouble if they could not escape soon. In the end, it was the Feng Shui that saved them. Tapping into Bear’s strength, Angela opened her spiritual third eye and guided the four after the flow of chi which led them out and back into the open field.

They still ran for a dozen more minutes, ducking between alleys and side streets until they felt safe enough to sit down and take a breath. When they did, Angela’s medical instincts got the best out of her and before she could help herself, she was bandaging and stitching. She had a bullet removed from Zarya’s shoulder, which looked most alarming but turned out to be less severe than it seemed. She moved on to Tracer, who was surprisingly unharmed save for a couple scratches, and then to Pharah, whose index and middle fingers were lacerated in an ugly way.

She took the other’s hand into hers, wiping the wound clean with white cloth and iodine.

“Had I known you’d be so well equipped and versatile, I’d have hired you sooner,” the human commented, taking a glimpse at Angela’s backpack, from where she produced first aid supplies.

The elf smirked. “Had I known the name of the person we were looking for, all the mess could have been avoided,” she remarked pointedly.

“Sorry,” Pharah blinked, sheepish. “I hired you thinking I might have to deal with a dead man’s spirit, and you actually did even better: brought him back to life.”

“All in a day’s work,” she replied. “I should charge double. ‘A milk run’, you said.”

“My ma used to say –”

“ – there’s no such thing as a milk run,” the blonde completed. “Wise words from a wise woman. Pity genetics worked that common sense out of her daughter.”

The woman’s lips cracked into a grin. “Aw, c’mon. It wasn’t so bad. You didn’t even get shot –”

“ _Seriously_?”

“ – and you got to look at my pretty face all night!”

The elf’s smirk turned into a full smile, and Angela’s thumb, as if on its own accord, gently grazed over the human’s knuckles. It didn’t go unnoticed, and Pharah answered by arching a single quizzical eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Angela muttered, eyes twinkling. She did not remove her hand. “Spirits.”

“Right,” Amari flexed her robotic index and middle fingers in the air, making quotes. “Spirits.”

The blonde pointed to the sky with a thumb. “Full moon night, they get sassy.”

Pharah looked up and stood silent for a couple seconds, and then burst out laughing so loud, it caught Zarya and Tracer’s attention.

“What’s so funny, chummers?” the decker queried.

_“What the fuck am I going to tell my client?”_

**Author's Note:**

> okay, with that out of my system, I can finally file it under "crazy, poorly written crossover ideas" and carry on. Hope you guys had fun!


End file.
